Atime2write - Fiona Tarr

Living A Creative Life

The Farmer’s Wife – Raging Bull!

I was pregnant with our first son and we had been working long hours, trying to get ahead financially. This included George spending a lot of time cutting hay on neighbouring properties. To save him some time and to keep the milking on schedule, I jumped on the motorbike (four wheeler of course, keeping my history with two wheeled bikes in mind), and headed out to bring the bull in from the main yard. This yard was where the bull stretched his legs during the day, but it was also where the cows came through on their way to the dairy to be milked. I couldn’t leave him there because he would have had his way with all the cows on season (heat), as they came through. We had strict calving cycles to keep and not all cows would be his to play with; we had other bulls and AI (artificial insemination) too.

Now little jersey bulls have a reputation for being feisty. They make up for their smaller stature with fowl little tempers and Sam was no exception. He had the most beautiful colouring, with dark brown, golden and auburn patches and sweat looking big brown eyes, but he was no push over. Now when I say he was small, I mean small by bull standards. He still weighed about 750 kilos and when he pawed the ground and snorted at me, I began to feel a little less confident, especially when considered with my heavy pregnancy. I will never forget the adrenalin that surged from my fear. I rode the motorbike around the boundary of the big yard herding him up and sending him back to his pen. He was having none of it; he kept turning back on me, threatening to attack my bike. Head down, he could have easily flipped the motorbike if I had gotten any closer. I admit it, I bailed and decided this was not going to be one of those days I could do it like the boys could. I was most annoyed with my lack of courage, but George had arrived home and came to the rescue. He jumped on the motorbike, puffed himself up and out he rode. Sam was bluffed and took off with his tail between his legs, scooting straight back into his yard.

It is amazing how our confidence or lack of it can be sensed or seen by others. Sam could see right through me, sensing my diminishing courage. He knew I wouldn’t get close with the bike, knew I wouldn’t get rough enough with him. He was so confident, that when George went out to bring him in, he even had a go at George. However my husband had plenty of experience and confidence and Sam only took a moment to realise it.

Have you ever had moments when your confidence was dashed and everyone around you could see right through you?

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